Willow
by HiddenWorldsOfWords
Summary: On a snowy winter day, Rowan and Aelin visit Lyria's grave and he tells Aelin more about her death. Set some time after Heir of Fire and does not contain any major spoilers.


**A/N: Hey everyone! This was my first attempt at writing Throne Of Glass fanfiction and im actually quite satisfied with how it turned out. I already posted this Oneshot on Wattpad, but I also wanted to post it on here. If anyone wants to listen to the song that inspired this Story, which is Willow by Jasmine Thompson, I'd highly recommend you do. Also, this is probably not what actually happened in the books, but it's still something that I had on my mind and wanted to write, so just enjoy this small part of my imagination!** **If you liked it, or didn't like it, it'd be nice if you left me a review - I'm always happy to hear what you think!**

* * *

 **Willow**

Rowan stared at the willow, its frozen leaves swaying softly in the crisp winter air. From behind, Aelin could see the tension dance in his broad shoulders, could see it in the way he clenched his fists at his sides, as if bracing for a fight that lay ahead. Still, she didn't step closer, giving him the time and distance she knew he needed. Honouring their deal - stand back until the other was ready.

The way he stood there, lost in memories.. it reminded her so much of herself that she almost felt like looking into a mirror. She remembered when she had visited Sam's grave the first time, the agony of his loss still so fresh that it seemed to push the air from her lungs, that she had stood before his grave just as Rowan did now. With the same bent posture as if the whole world were resting upon her shoulders.

But she also knew that it wasn't just Lyria's death that ate at him, but all the guilt he still carried with himself centuries later. He had told her about it once before.

Even though she hated the thought of it, she knew it probably wouldn't ever go away. Not entirely.

"It was right here that I found her again", Rowan's quiet voice cut through the silence, the sound drifiting towards her in a carriage of snowflakes. Aelin stepped closer, following his gaze, taking in the willow and the clearing, the partly frozen river running through it and eventually vanishing in the distance. The mountains reaching into the air around it weren't wholly visible, too concealed by white mist to make out the peaks.

"I knew that things had gone terribly wrong. Half of the village was burning and I couldn't find her. So I came here, for this was the place she loved most. The first place she'd flee to if something happened. And she did."

Aelin looked up at Rowan, taking in his sorrowful features and silver hair. The white world around them was in stark contrast with the inkblack tattoos marking his skin. Now that he was telling his story, it almost seemed like they were coming alive.

Rowan nodded ahead of him. "I was standing under that willow when I saw her stumbling toward me, clothed only in a white nightgown, her arms wrapped around herself. In that moment, I dared to hope that she was okay, that nothing had happened to her", his breath hitched in his throat and he stopped, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, the memory was in front of her.

 _Two lovers reuniting just to bid farewell. She could see Rowan wading through the knee-deep snow, hope glinting inside his orbs and leaving them moments later._

"And then she fell and didn't get up again. She hit the ground before I could reach her, and was lying in a puddle of her own blood when I finally did."

Aelin swallowed the lump in her throat when she imagined what it must've been like. Remembering what it had been like when she'd found Sam, barely recognizable below all of his bleeding wounds.

And Lyria.. She had been Rowan's mate. Carrying his child. A child he'd never get to know.

"I carried her to her favourite spot under that willow. We used to sit there together, just talking for hours or dancing beneath the stars." A small smile tugged at his lips, but it faltered as he continued.

 _Other images flooded Aelin's mind and the snow vanished right in front of her eyes, making way for colourful flowers littering the grass. The air was sweet when she next took a breath, taking in the vibrant giant tree standing in the middle, under which two people were sitting. She exhaled shakily when she recognized Rowan's silver hair, his arms wrapped around Lyria._

 _The female was breathtakingly beautiful. Delicate features, fair skin and long lashes, her dark curls like molten chocolate. Blinking, Aelin noticed the book in Lyria's hands, her furrowed brows, and she realised that the woman was reading._

 _Rowan looked down at it from over her shoulder, his eyes darting to the page and back to her face and there was such profound love in his expression that tears sprang to Aelin's eyes._

 _His skin wasn't marked by black swirls yet, no scars covered his body. He looked younger. Happier._

 _The memory changed and the sun set, the couple now standing next to the river, their arms wrapped around each other. Suddenly, Rowan pushed Lyria away from himself and spun her around, catching her as she lost her balance. Her clear laughter echoed through the night and as Aelin looked up at the silver-freckled sky, it felt like the stars were smiling, too._

 _They started dancing and the memory shifted. Spring and the chirping of birds, summer and warm breezes and moonlight, autumn and a world of reds and oranges, of storms and rain showers. The couple kept whirling through the seasons as if they were one, their eyes locked on each other's, oblivious to the world changing around them so long as they were together._

 _Aelin only noticed her damp cheeks when the cold of winter returned and the wind stung on her skin. The memory faded._

Only when Rowan spoke again did she dare to take a breath. "This used to be the place where I thought my heart belonged, because everything of it had been a part of her. She was in the whispers of the wind and in the songs of the river. She was in the humming of the mountains. And she still is." Rowan huffed softly, muttering that last part to himself. „She still is. But now.. I think a part of my heart is buried right here with her, deep down in that cold, hard earth. And I don't think it's beating anymore."

Pure agony laced his words and Aelin couldn't stop herself as she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He looked down at their entwined fingers, tears glistening in his green eyes as he met her gaze and swallowed. But she understood. She knew he loved her, he had proven it to her often enough. She saw it every time he looked at her, the sharp lines of his face softening slightly, light returning to his shadowed gaze. But that part of his heart that had loved Lyria - loved her so very dearly - it had been shattered by her death.

"So we sat there on the spot where we'd sat so often before. And yet, nothing was the same. She was bleeding out right there in my arms and there was nothing I could do but ease her pain. I couldn't heal her, the wounds were too severe. I couldn't save our child."

 _Another image appeared in front of Aelin, of the two broken lovers again sitting under the willow that sheltered them from the ruthless winter storm raging around them. Rowan leaned against the trunk. He looked young, but the softness in his eyes had vanished as soon as he'd laid them onto his dying wife. His flawless skin was white as a clean canvas. He looked like a part of his inherent magic. Frozen. A prince of ice._

 _Then, there was the woman in his arms, almost a girl still, the blood covering her frail body like fallen rose petals. Her brown hair , sticky with blood, flowed to the ground and her arms still tried to protect the unborn child inside of her. Rowan held her with such care that it made Aelin's heart ache with love. He whispered to her as one would while comforting a scared child, his hands caressing her arms as he took her pain._

 _From the distance, Aelin could see tears sparkling on both of their faces. Lyria's skin was as pale as the snow she was lying in, as if all the warmth of life had already left her body. Death was claiming her, hard and fast._

 _The whole scene looked like a tragic painting. Brutal and devastatingly beautiful._

 _"Why?" Aelin heard her brittle whisper. Somehow Lyria's voice was loud enough for her to understand it over the roaring wind. "Why did you leave?"_

A soft sob broke from Rowan, her Rowan, as he looked towards the huge tree, and she wondered if he saw himself the way she saw him, or if he was just back there again, feeling his mate's warm blood soak into his skin.

In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to take away his agony, to make him forget everything that had happened. She wanted to take away the harshness all the pain had left in his face, the darkness clouding his once bright eyes.

But how could she? How could she ever, in a thousand years, bring herself to make someone forget such an invaluable part of their life? How could she take away that love that, once upon a time, filled the very air he breathed?

She knew that without this loss, without what it had done to him, she wouldn't be standing next to the person she was standing next to now.

"I couldn't answer her", Rowan said, his voice hoarse. More tears rolled freely from his eyes and snowflakes had gotten stuck in his long eyelashes. The look into his green orbs was deeper, more intimate, than he had ever let her in. She could clearly see the emotions dancing in them he usually so carefully concealed. "I couldn't, because I was too ashamed of what I'd done. What I had let slip away from me. And then I smelled the child on her. Our child."

 _Aelin looked back towards the memory and found Rowan bending over the wounded form of his wife as violent sobs racked his whole body. She still hugged her middle, faintly smiling at her lover when he pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths joining._

 _"She would've been beautiful", Lyria whispered. Tears like pearls slipped out of the corners of her eyes and Rowan caught them, gently wiping them away. He didn't say anything, didn't seem to be able to do so, but just held her like he was still trying to protect her._

 _The woman in his arms didn't speak again and Aelin gasped as the young male let out a boneshattering scream when her breaths ceased and she fell limp in his arms. He started begging her, shaking her, pleading and praying to every God he knew to bring her back. But it was of no use. The snow storm kept circling around them like a hungry predator, waiting to sink its claws into them as soon as they emerged from the safety of the large tree. The willow seemed to sway even harder, seemed to weep, as if it knew that two hearts had died in its middle that night. And the world kept on existing, oblivious to the broken prince, staring down at the other half of his heart that was now lying dead in his arms._

 _Aelin kept silent when Rowan continued and she wasn't able to tear her eyes away as the memory of her mate kept sitting leaned against the rough bark of the giant tree, kept rocking his wife, tears relentlessly rolling down his white cheeks. She distantly heard Rowan's voice telling her that he sat there for hours, unable to move, think or feel. She bore witness as the rivers of tears froze on his cheeks and his lips turned violet, his body shaking as the cold finally tore through the walls of shock that had kept him warm before. Even his inner ice didn't keep him from being attacked by it._

 _Or maybe, he just didn't want it to._

 _Maybe, some part of her mind whispered, he wanted to die right there, alongside his mate._

 _When he still sat there, his chest barely rising anymore and his hands and lips dark blue, Aelin wanted to scream at him. She wanted to run toward him, to slap him and put the life back into those vacant eyes that cradled so much grief in their midst that she could barely look at him._

But she did none of it and just turned to Rowan, her Rowan, who was very much alive and still standing next to her, and he returned her gaze as if he already knew what she was going to ask.

„Why didn't you stand up? Why didn't you do anything?"

Some irrational part of her was scared of his answer, even though the warmth of his hand in hers was proof enough that he had fought his way back from the picture of the broken shell he had been.

He shook his head and lowered it, his voice quiet but steady. „I didn't want to. I didn't want to do anything ever again. I couldn't."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed and he raised his head again to stare at the white-dressed willow. „I didn't want to leave her there. Like I had before. I wanted to stay there, with her, until the cold that was a part of me would eventually claim me like it had claimed her."

The silence that followed his words was so heavy that Aelin feared her knees would buckle under the sheer weight of it. „What happened?"

He smiled sadly. „I almost died. I was dying. I could feel it in the heaviness of my lungs and the numbness in my limbs. Shadows had started to alter my vision, death's whisper creeping through my bones. I almost embraced it, welcomed it even. And I know I would've died that night, had it not been for Lorcan."

„Lorcan?" Aelin looked at Rowan incredolously, who absent-mindedly nodded in return.

„Yes, Lorcan. He saved me. And I hated him for it."

 _Night had fallen and it was just because of the moonlight being reflected by the sparkling snow that Aelin could make out the two pale figures under the willow. The storm had stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Rowan still had his bloody hands clamped around Lyria, but his eyes were closed now, crystals of ice coating his lashes and lips. There was no colour left in his skin, no movement in his body that might have indicated that he was even still breathing and a shiver ran down Aelin's spine at the sight of it. He looked dead._

 _Out of the corner of her eye, Aelin detected a shadow and her eyes shot to a hodded man wading through the snow toward the lovers. He didn't take off his hood when he reached them, growling softly as he perceived the faint heartbeat of the young fae prince in front of him. Without hesitation, the male started shaking the frozen form, ordering him to wake up and open his eyes. He pried the stiff fingers from the female's body and gently took her off, lowering her into the snow beneath him. Aelin noticed him stop briefly when he recognized the scent of a child on her, followed by a prayer that he silently mumbled before returning to Rowan and shaking him anew. This time, he did take off his cloak and wrapped it around the other male's body. He barked rough commands at him and slapped his face with such force that the sound tore through the night like a whip, his agitation growing with the weakening of the young fae's pulse._

 _Eventually, Rowan's eyelids fluttered open and he took in a brittle breath, his eyes scanning his surroundings without recognizing anything. Lorcan had calmed slightly, but it wasn't long before he started hauling Rowan up, the male too weak to stand and sagging against him, making no effort to get up again. Only when his eyes fell onto Lyria's body lying in the snow next to him did he start resisting, fighting against the strong arms of the dark-haired fae soldier. It made no difference to Lorcan as he eventually hoisted him up into his arms, his cloak tightly wrapped around his burden, and carried him away. Aelin's heart ached as she watched the feeble attempts of resistance until Rowan lost consciousness in Lorcan's arms. She looked after them until the darkness of night had swallowed them both._

„I returned the next day to bury her", Rowan said. He brushed a hand over his eyes, inhaling deeply. „Even though I was barely strong enough to stand, I couldn't bear the thought of her wasting away for everyone to see. So I buried her right under that willow, right beneath the spot where she had once read that book to me. And I carved our names into the bark and a prayer, bidding the great willow to look after her. Then I went and joined Lorcan's cadre. I didn't come back for decades after that."

 _Sunrise painted the sky blood red when Rowan stalked back through the snow toward Lyria. He staggered at times, the effort of pulling his feet through the thick snow draining his strength, but he never stopped. His jaw was clenched in silent determination as he clutched a shovel in one hand, sometimes using it to support himself._

 _He reached the willow and halted when he stood before his lover's body again, his eyes shadowed and red-rimmed. His face was still pale and the dark blue tinge had not yet left his lips that started whispering prayers, the sound soft like the snowflakes around him, hitting the ground. He bent down and knelt next to the female, his set jaw loosening slightly when he looked at her face that had not lost any of its inherent beauty, but now in death bore something cold and sad. She almost looked as if she were just sleeping. He took a moment, honouring her memory, and closed his eyes. Then he stood, grabbing the shovel he had put beside himself, and got to work._

 _Aelin could see the trembling of his muscles beneath the layers of clothing as he started digging, the earth hard and unyielding. She didn't know how long it took, but it felt like hours that she watched him. He never faltered, never hesitated and didn't give up even when his body was swaying from exhaustion, his breaths coming in labored gasps. He didn't cry._

 _The sun was up, but hidden by masses of snow floating to the ground as they had the night before, when Rowan was finally done, the grave a black hole gaping before him. Shaking, he turned to Lyria, bending to the ground and picking her up with agonizing gentleness. She seemed even smaller than before, her lifeless body resembling the one of a child in Rowan's embrace. Then he carefully lowered her into her grave, a sob breaking through him as he planted a final kiss on her forehead._

 _And he let go._

 _He was weeping by the time he started burying her under bulks of frozen earth. Earth that now cradled her slim body in its depths like a mother would her newborn. Welcoming her home._

 _The young male kept going until she wasn't visible anymore, hidden by thick blankets of soil separating her from him and the world of the living. His eyes were bottomless seas of grief as he eventually fell to his knees before the small hill erupting from the ground that marked the place where she had taken her last breath just hours ago. Her blood still stained the snow around him._

 _Kneeling before the place that he had once called his home, he eventually said goodbye. Aelin couldn't hear the words, but she saw them in his every move. She saw the desperate love, the guilt and the apology. Tears flowed from her eyes as Rowan rose and pulled a knife out of his cloak pocket. She drew in a breath, but he just stepped towards the willow and started carving. Some of the swirls she recognized from his tattoo. Their names, entangled in an infinite dance._

 _A silent promise._

„I didn't look back when I left her. I know that if I had, I would have turned around and stayed."

Aelin looked at Rowan as if she were waking from a dream. Snow was still falling around them, like it had that day. She swallowed, barely able to say the words.

„I am so sorry."

And she meant it. She had seen the raw, genuine love between the two people. A love so pure that she longed for it herself. A love that didn't blind but enlightened and consumed.

Rowan just nodded, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears and he squeezed her hand, giving her a small smile. Then they wordlessly approached the willow. Snow crunched beneath their boots, cold wind whipping over their faces until they arrived in the shelter of the willow and the roaring died down to a soft murmur. Snow lay here too, traitorous flakes that had made their way through the leaves and branches of the huge tree.

They stopped before the grave, only visible because it slightly protruded from the ground, forming a tiny hill. She looked down at it and at the place around it and a shiver ran down her spine with the knowledge of everything that had happened in this place. Everything that had been lost and broken.

Rowan stared at it too, still as a statue, right next to her and yet centuries far away. When he turned to her again, his lips trembled. Not saying anything, she wrapped her arms around his strong body, breathing him in, feeling him return her embrace and letting himself fall into her comfort. They stood there for a few minutes, as one, drowning out the world around them, drawing strengh from each other and honouring everyone that had been taken from this world so viciously.

Lyria. Sam.

And so many others that no one was alive to remember anymore.

So many souls that had lost their lives.

When they separated, still aware of each others thundering heartbeats, Aelin turned to Lyria's grave and directed her next words to the spirit of the woman that still lived in the bark of the willow, the songs of the river and the whispers of the wind.

„Thank you", she breathed, even though there were no words that were able to convey the gratitude she felt for everything the female had given Rowan. For all the happiness she had brought him, whom Aelin now had the privilege to love and be loved by.

„Thank you."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Dusk was painting the snow violet when Aelin and Rowan left the clearing.

He stopped once, turning around and bidding a wordless farewell.

Then he took his mate's hand and followed her.

 ** _ **\- The End -**_**


End file.
